


The Sophie Chronicles—The Paris Job

by crayonbreakygal



Series: The Sophie Chronicles [3]
Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:13:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7091044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayonbreakygal/pseuds/crayonbreakygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I still don't understand how you can mix up Paris and Tuscany."  Surely something else happened between the two of them in addition to shooting each other.  Prequel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sophie Chronicles—The Paris Job

**Author's Note:**

> Scene from The Mile High Job, season one, explains Nate and Sophie's backstory a bit better. And you know that they shot each other from The Nigerian Job, season one. What happened afterwards?

The Sophie Chronicles—The Paris Job

Oh bloody hell. He shot her.  He bloody well shot her.

She watched as he crumbled to his knees, clutching his shoulder.  The one through her back throbbed like fire.  Her jacket was ruined, her getaway was ruined.  He ruined everything.

“Freeze,” he yelled right before he shot her.

Who says that?  Did he think he was a cop?  He investigated art theft.  Who issued him a weapon?

“Wanker.”

“Sophie, what are you doing?”

“My job.”

The room spun a bit as she attempted to grab whatever paintings she could.  Nate hobbled over to her, gun in his hand just hanging at his side.

“You just never stop, do you?”

“What’s your point?”

She had run from him many times before now.  He’d chased, but never caught up with her, except for Damascus, and that one wasn’t even her fault.

“Someone’s going to notice,” he said getting up then falling to one knee again.

“Party is too loud.  Fireworks.”

The room spun again, but she wasn’t putting that painting down.  He managed to pull it out of her grasp as he moved closer.  How did he get back up was her question?  Yes, the determination that was Nate Ford.  The bane of her existence.

“So we both bleed to death while you decide whether you need help?”

“Bloody wanker,” she said as she grabbed onto a chair for support.

“As much as I like you swearing at me, I don’t think this is what you want.”

Sure, being shot by Nathan Ford was her highlight of the day or year.  Being caught by him in the act of stealing a painting, many paintings that she had run a long con to get and now losing them since he shot her, in the back, was a highlight too.

“We should, before somebody notices. I just, can you walk?”

She looked to be in better shape than he was.

“I know a guy,” was all she said as she helped him to his feet.

“A guy?  I’m a guy.”

“To fix this.”

They both pushed and pulled each other to make it downstairs and out the back before someone noticed a trail of blood in their wake.  Sophie managed to get them a cab, paid the guy a ton of money to not notice the fact that both of them were white as sheets in addition to bleeding all over the back of his car.

Her guy, a doctor who she met a few years before, complained mightily that she brought another person with her.  She just couldn’t let Nate bleed to death. Sure, she could have called for someone to find him.  Her brain wasn’t working like that though.  It was Nathan Ford who shot her.  He better well help her heal.

It took over an hour for both of them to be stitched up, shot full of antibiotics and sent on their merry way with pills for pain and infection.  Sophie didn’t even know where he was staying.  She just grabbed the first cab she could find and told him her address.  Nate was in and out of it for the most part, so by the time they arrived at her small apartment, it took all her strength to wrestle him up the steps and in the door.

“This is not a good idea,” he got out as he fell onto the sofa.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she added as she slowly made it to the floor.

“We should go to a hospital.”

“You should not have shot me.”

“Point taken.”

“Oh, so you realize what you did?”

“You moved. I shot.  You shot.  Unfortunately neither one of us missed.”

Sophie slumped against the sofa, watching as Nate’s eyes drifted shut. He’d fallen over onto his stomach, legs half on, half off the sofa since he really couldn’t fit his long, lean frame onto it.  Grabbing his hand in hers, she drifted in and out of unconsciousness, only falling over when she finally couldn’t stay upright any longer. 

 

“Here, ouch, let me, ouch.  Sophie.”

Her beautiful rug wasn’t the best sleeping place, but it seemed better than a jail cell.  It was dark outside, so she must have slept through the day and into the night.  Since Nate shot her in the early morning hours and they’d been patched up and back at her place before breakfast, she must have been passed out for at least twelve hours if the clock on the mantel was correct.

Nate’s legs no longer dangled off her sofa, but were in a sitting position now.

“Why are you on the floor?”

Yes, why was she on the floor?  Because he had passed out on her furniture.

“Pills?”

She rummaged through her pockets to pull out a bottle.  Nate’s hand swiped it from her.  Sophie heard him struggling with opening it, followed by a sign as he dry swallowed it.  Then he choked as he managed to get it down. 

“I have water, you know.”

“Can’t move.”

Her back was stiff and itchy, but only throbbed when she moved a certain way.  The front, where the bullet exited, felt a bit better, but not by much.  Leaning back against the sofa, she swung her head around to see if Nate was still with her.  His head hung at an odd angle, like he had passed out sitting up.  The blood on his shirt was visible, tie gone and lost at some point.  Bleary eyes met hers, shining in the moonlight as she looked him over.

“I should probably, maybe go?”

“You can’t even keep your eyes open.”

Getting up was worse than just sitting up, but Sophie finished the job, crashing down next to him.

“Oh god that hurt,” she got out as she clutched her shoulder.

“So they find us, sitting on your sofa, clutching our shoulders like we were in pain.”

“You’re not going to die, Nate.”

“I know that.  Doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking hurt.”

Sophie snorted a little at Nate’s swearing.

“Not funny.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

Sophie worked her ruined coat off one shoulder, then got stuck on the other.

“Here,” Nate said, hand ready to help.

He pulled it until it fell off.  Sophie noticed the dried blood on her shirt, but didn’t care at that moment.  Popping the buttons, she wrenched it off also, not liking the feel of it any longer.

“Oh boy, just Sophie.  What the hell.”

“Buck up, you bastard.”

“If you put it that way.”

Staggering to her feet, she made her way into the kitchen, poured them each glasses of water, and slowly made her way back to where Nate hadn’t moved. Not like he could do anything about her state of undress anyway.  He had closed his eyes until she sat down directly next to him.  They flew open when he realized that she was back, sans shirt.  Wrestling the pill bottles from her jacket, she gave him antibiotics while she downed pain pills and her antibiotics.

“Better?” she asked.

“No.”

Sophie giggled at his response.

“Come on then.  I don’t want to spend the rest of the night either on the floor or sitting up on this sofa.  It’s not very comfortable.”

Nate looked around at the sofa like he was seeing it for the first time.

“Not so bad.”

“Says the man who slept on it while I was on the floor.”

Both finally standing up, Nate swayed, then managed to get one foot in front of the other.  Sophie led the way, grabbing furniture to steady herself as she did.  Nate tried the same thing, with better results.  Sophie ran into the wall where the door was, but uprighted herself and pushed until she made it through without injuring her shoulder any further. 

“Bed,” Nate groaned.  “Sophie’s bed.”

Looking back at Nate, Sophie wondered if the pain pills were making him a bit loopy.  His eyes crossed then uncrossed as he weaved his way forward.  He did a double take as he looked down at her chest, barely covered with a bra but nothing else.  The doctor had cleaned most of the blood off, but it still clung to her in spots.

“Oh boy,” he mumbled as he stopped at the foot of the bed.

Sophie did not want him on her bed in those clothes, particularly since he had a lot more blood dried on him than she did.  Grabbing him roughly, she yanked the jacket down and threw it to the side.  The shirt was next, sticking in places.  He winced as she did this.

“Geez, Sophie. That hurt.”

“I really don’t believe you just said that.”

And maybe her pain pills were starting to work because now in addition to being loopy she was a bit angry with him.

“I’m sorry.  Did I say something wrong?” he bit back, sarcastic in tone.

“Shut up and drop your pants.”

Nate’s eyes narrowed at what she said, but he did as he was told to do.  Only he didn’t take his shoes off and tripped over the pants, falling to the bed in a face plant.

“Shit,” he yelled as he hit his shoulder.

Weaving to the edge of the bed, Sophie sat with a thump.  Nate just lay where he had landed, shoes still on. One foot came around to toe off one shoe, then the other shoe.  Then he kicked off his pants after the shoes had gone away.  Sophie could see where the bandage was on his back. There was a bit of blood, but not enough to worry about.  Sophie managed to slip her shoes off without too much trouble.  The pants were next, landing in a heap with Nate’s pants.

If she’d had her way, if she’d managed to seduce the insurance investigator, this scene would have never happened, except maybe for the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed.  That would have been a better scenario. 

“Nate, just scoot up the bed.  Lying there with your legs dangling off is not comfortable.  Besides, I’ll sleep better knowing you didn’t die in the middle of the night.”

“I’m not dying,” he said, face down into the comforter.

“But you’re also not moving, darling.”

“Darling?  Is that going to be a thing?” he said as he turned his head to the side to breathe.

“Possibly.”

He now giggled at her response.  “Those pain pills are making me feel so weird.”

He did as she commanded though and made his way slowly up the bed.  She followed after, not realizing to the last minute that he watched the whole thing.

“You are going to kill me, aren’t you, Sophie Devereaux?”

“Stop ogling me and get some rest.”

Settling down beside him, both pulled the comforter up.  He was out in minutes.  Sophie saw that he looked younger, more vulnerable as he slept the sleep of the dead.  He’d not wake until morning.  Gently as she could, she traced his jaw and forehead with her fingers.  Sighing, she placed her hand next to his stretched out fingers and drifted off to sleep.

 

The next morning, Sophie was sure it was morning because of where the sun was shining through the windows, brought about a bit of pain when Sophie attempted to move her arm.  Lying on her side, the warmth on her backside was welcome since the room had turned chilly.  Her eyes immediately popped open when she realized why she was so warm and snuggly in her own bed.  Nathan Ford was pressed up very intimately against her backside, hand draped over her middle, head right next to hers.

“Oh dear god,” she got out in a huff.

The hand that he had draped over her middle moved north just a bit, grazing her breast, making her inhale with a gasp of surprise.  Nate Ford was asleep in her bed, snuggling with her, the day after he shot her and she shot him.  To her it would have seemed a bit more comical in nature if his hand hadn’t started moving again.

As gently as she could, she pried his hand away from her breast, rolled a bit and was off the bed as quickly as her pain would allow.  Making her way to the bathroom, she turned on the shower, pushing it to extremely hot as she did.  She didn’t care about the stitches or getting them wet.  Sophie only cared about getting clean and washing the smell of Nate from her body.

The water stung as she entered the shower.  Luckily the pressure was good and the hot lasted.  It felt good to be somewhat human again.  After seeing to her needs and brushing her teeth, she picked up her brush and entered her bedroom, Nate still sound asleep on her bed.  He’d stretched out, lying on his stomach, back exposed. The comforter dipped a bit, showing her a bit of his backside.  His boxers must have worked their way down in the middle of the night.  What she wouldn’t do to rip those off all the way, turn him over and make him pay. 

A moan from the bed took her out of her daydream. He’d moved slightly, muscles in his arms bunching up as he did.  He settled again, leg coming up and out from underneath the covers.  A jolt of lust shot through her as she viewed him as she brushed her wet hair. 

Nate Ford wasn’t anything near to being a pretty boy, skin not smooth and free of hair and marks on the body.  He was long and lean, dark hair on his arms and legs and chest.  But the skin on his back was smooth, as she had discovered the night before.  Even short, his hair curled in the back ever so slightly, enough that if she wanted to, she could tug on it and get a reaction out of him.  His feet were quite large as she noticed one of them peeking out.  She wasn’t even going there on that one since she wasn’t really one to do a study on how large a man’s feet were compared to other parts of his body.

Sitting down in her comfortable chair at the side of the bed, she watched as he slept on, wondering what she’d do with him once he awoke.  He was going to be quite angry with her.  Her anger had dissipated during the night, except for the fact that her new coat had been ruined.  Sure, her back ached, but time would take care of that along with another shot of pain pills, which she downed happily right after her shower.

As quietly as she could, she climbed back into bed, hoping that the pills would take effect and she could get more rest.  Pushing his arm aside, Sophie pulled the sheet up her body, not bothering to remove the towel that was around her.  She’d decided not to dress yet.  More sleep was in order.

 

Rolling over in her bed, Sophie pulled up short when she realized that Nate was nowhere to be found. She could still smell him on her pillow though, so she knew she wasn’t dreaming. Snuggling down a bit, she contemplated getting up and figuring out if he’d abandoned her or had possibly just passed out in another part of her flat.

The smell of coffee hit her though, which meant he was probably in her kitchen.  As slowly as she could, she sat up, watching the towel dip too far down, exposing a breast.  Oh what would she do right now if he walked in on her?  Her shoulder ached, her back ached, other parts of her body ached too.  Damn him.  Damn Nate Ford and that ring on his finger.

She’d noticed the ring the second time she’d encountered him, in Damascus.  The sun overhead had made it almost sparkle, but that was just because she thought it seemed that way.  She didn’t seduce someone else’s husband.  Sophie had made a hard and fast rule early on in her career. The mark had to be not married, or the spouse was out of the picture.  It just made it that much simpler in her eyes.  Having experienced that in her childhood with her own father, there was no way she was carrying that sort of guilt around with her.  Nate’s wife was definitely not out of the picture.

Picking up her robe off the hook in her bedroom, she securely fastened it and made her way into the kitchen. Nate had his back to her, looking as if he were cooking something.  Sophie had some food in her kitchen.  She did cook, when she had the time.

Nate had actually donned his suit pants, sans the ruined shirt though, feet bare to her hardwood floor. His hair was damp, probably from using her shower.  He’d smell like her, she thought. 

“If I knew this was the way to get you to cook me a meal, I would have taken a shot at you a long time ago.”

Nate whirled around, spatula in hand.  He must have not heard her approach, but relaxed quickly when he realized she was near.  The sudden movement had him wincing in pain, but otherwise he was still upright.

Sophie made her way over to the coffee and poured herself a cup as she watched him work.  The omelet smelled divine as she saw him throw a few things here and there into it.

“Only enough for one go.  It’s big though.”

Sophie almost choked on her coffee as she took a swallow when he spoke.  She really did need to get her brain out of the gutter.

“Should be enough to share.”

Sophie grimaced as she retrieved two plates from her cupboard.

“Pills?”

“Yes, well, if you don’t want to see that omelet come back up, I might just skip it for now.  It’s manageable.”

Nate cut the omelet in two, placed her half on a plate and did the same for himself.  Grabbing a cup for himself, he poured a generous sized coffee and slowly walked over to her small table.  She could tell he was still in pain, just like she was.

She sat down across from him, watching as he dug into his food.  The omelet was good, she gave him that, and she was quite hungry from not having eaten for over a day.  The coffee was starting to wake up her brain a bit more since all she could do at the moment was stare at Nate as she finished her meal.

“So?” he said as he finished what he had.

“Um, so?” she parroted him.

“We, this is, you shot me.”

“It’s not, I didn’t mean.  You surprised me.”

“You kinda surprised me too.”

His hand clenched around his coffee cup.

“So, what do we do?  I mean, you know.”

Nate laughed a little.  “At least you had me patched up.  I could have bled to death before anyone found me.  No one even knew I was there.”

Sophie’s eyebrows shot up, realizing that she possibly had done the best thing she could have done.  There was no way she ever wanted Nathan Ford dead.  It would ruin her.  She’d never be able to live with herself if he’d died. Sophie felt tears forming in her eyes.  She looked away, not wanting him to see her vulnerable.

“Yeah, so, Sophie, let’s just forget about what happened.  You take your lumps, I take mine.”

“I don’t use guns.  That’s not what I do.  I just, I had it for protection and there you were.”

Sophie really had to stop babbling.  Sure, she knew how to shoot and was quite good at it.  Nate didn’t need to know that.

“Let’s go back to chasing and running, OK?  I mean, you have enough money, you could retire or something or…”

Sophie smiled his way.  That she would never do.  She was caught up in this whirlwind that was Nate Ford.  There was no way she’d give it all up just because he said she should forget about stealing another painting.

“Sophie, your hand.”

What she hadn’t realized was she’d grabbed his hand at some point during her conversation.  She was squeezing it tightly.

“Oh, right.  So, um, right.”

She jerked it away suddenly as he moved to get up.

“I should go.  I have to fly back in a few days and I think that the client will want to know where I have been.  We left it a mess and have probably made them all wonder what happened.”

Nate quickly dressed as Sophie sat stock still at her table.  With a cursory goodbye, he was out the door and out of her life once again.  It wouldn’t take much for her to clear out of the flat she had rented.  If he came back, then he’d see that she was gone.  And that’s just what he did because she was watching two days later as he investigated where she had gone off to.  Watching from a distance, she saw how his face fell when he realized that she had probably skipped town. 

Later on that night, she slipped a note under his door with what she was calling her signature phrase.

“Catch me if you can.”

 


End file.
